


Coping

by bokuakabeam



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Death, Crying, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, I'm Sorry, Just really fucking sad, Love, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sad, Sad Eddie Kaspbrak, Sad Ending, Sad Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuakabeam/pseuds/bokuakabeam
Summary: What happened to Richie and Eddie after they escaped Neibolt.Kind of.





	Coping

Richie had been crying since they had returned back to the hotel after the collapse of Neibolt. And for some reason that Eddie couldn’t figure out, he was furious with him. Amidst various curse words and punches of his pillow, Eddie could hear his name slip from between Richie’s lips. He sounded broken, upset, torn down. Eddie was heartbroken that he couldn’t be there for him the way Richie apparently needed. Eddie would hear his anger and cries, his own eyes stinging with tears threatening to fall, and he would leave Richie alone in his room. 

The six of them had barely escaped the clutches of Neibolt, beaten and tattered from their battle, but alive. Ben and Beverly held each other, and Eddie smiled, happy that they had finally realized their love for one another. Mike and Bill were gripping each other’s arms, their faces frozen in a look of incredulous happiness at what the six of them had accomplished. Eddie let his eyes fall on Richie, the man who had convinced him of his bravery, and his heart broke. Presumably from exhaustion, Richie had fallen onto his knees, keeping his eyes trained on the destruction before them. His outfit was covered in dirt and grime, and had several small rips from the rocks and crags they had encountered on their journey. Without realizing, he let himself move beside his best friend, and placed his hand on his back, rubbing a small and gentle circle with his thumb. 

Richie shuddered, but said nothing. His cries were quiet, but loud enough for Eddie to hear. 

“Eddie…” Richie began, but did not continue. He pushed his glasses up and into his hair, and balled his hands into fists to rub the tears from his eyes. Eddie could sense the anger bubbling beneath his hand, still resting on Richie’s back, but before he could say anything to prompt Richie to finish his previous thought, he was interrupted.

“So, what now?” Richie asked, his voice thick but brittle. He looked back at his friends, his eyes grazing past Eddie, as if he didn’t want to look at him. 

Beverly gave him a small but pitiful smile, and looked amongst everyone else, and they all seemed to agree. 

Before long, they had reached the quarry, and Beverly once again outdid them all by jumping in first. Eddie smiled crookedly as he remembered the first day they had all spent together, and Richie’s utter shock at Beverly’s lack of cowardice. 

_ “What the fuck!” _ Richie had shouted, as Beverly whizzed past them and jumped into the water far below. Looking down now, 27 years later, the water seemed far still, but in an exhilarating way. 

Each of the adult losers took turns jumping in after Beverly, Eddie watching in awe as Richie’s body seemed to maneuver itself in midair. He was the last to jump in, and Eddie couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath, not anticipating the shock of cold water to meet him so soon after his feet had left the ground. 

Richie had set himself apart from the others, cleaning his glasses and looking down at the water that surrounded him. Eddie noticed some blood that had splattered across the expanse of the lenses and frames. He smiled at Richie, reminiscing of the many times he had snatched the boy’s glasses from his grasp and cleaned them with vigor.

_ “How can you see with all this shit on your glasses, Rich? It’s disgusting! You could get an eye infection or something from all this fucking bacteria.”  _ Eddie was always good at coming up with some random infection or sickness to scare his friends into cleaning themselves. Or so he thought, it never really worked for Richie. 

_ “As long as I can see your cute face, Eds, I’ll live,” _ Richie would respond back, pinching Eddie’s cheeks.

_ “Don’t call me that, fuckface.” _

As he had always done, he walked over and reached towards the glasses to clean them for Richie. Their fingers brushed together, and the boys both gasped, dropping the glasses into the murky water. Richie looked up as tears filled his eyes again, and Eddie tried to read the look on his face. 

Once they had cleaned themselves up and hugged it out, they all silently made their way back to the hotel, where they now resided. Since Richie had holed himself up in his room, going between crying and sleeping, Eddie wandered about the building, trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. 

Forgetting Richie was the worst thing that had happened to Eddie, and he didn’t even realize he had done so. Forgetting all of his friends was awful, but Eddie had forgotten the bravery and support and  _ love _ he had when he was around Richie. Richie, the boy that had teased him all throughout school and the summers they shared together. The boy he was always so drawn to, no matter how obnoxious and annoying he could be at times. The boy he wanted to share all his thoughts and feelings with, and who he never wanted to be apart from. 

None of his friends would look towards Eddie when he entered a room, which he originally thought was odd, but they did with each other as well. It seemed as if the six of them were in some kind of limbo because they were unsure of how to move on from such a horrible experience. Eddie, on the other hand, felt as if his whole life had become a horrible experience, and he hated to think it, but he was almost  _ grateful _ that Pennywise had gotten them all together again. Although he hated that fucker’s guts. He had fallen back into the same routine with his wife that he had with his mother, and he didn’t realize he had anything else to fall back on until he saw Richie’s face again. Throughout the times they had spent together, Richie was always on Eddie’s case about standing up for himself, to get some  _ balls _ and stand up to his mother, and actually have some fun every once in a while. Just as the clown had tormented him 27 years ago, Eddie was stunned to be asking himself the same question.  _ What the fuck am I looking for? What do I want? _

And damn it, Eddie wanted Richie.

After a couple hours of deliberation where Eddie was giving Richie some space, he decided enough was enough. _What the fuck is he so mad at me for?_ _I saved his ass from the deadlights!_ Eddie was getting himself riled up, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he paced the hallway between his room and Richie’s. _Is he mad that I dropped his glasses in the water? That was half his fault!_

Eddie finally worked up enough courage to go into Richie’s room, only to stop in his tracks when he realized the bed was empty. The shower in the adjacent bathroom was running, the sound muffled by the closed door. He sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed to wait for his return. Only a few seconds had gone by, and Eddie’s adrenaline was still high, so he began pacing Richie’s small room, grimacing at the messy state it was in. 

There were empty alcohol bottles that Richie must have swiped from the bar downstairs, and crumpled up papers tossed into the trash can. There was one paper that was left on the room’s desk, with a pen resting on top of it. Eddie’s nosiness got the best of him, and he risked a glance at the bathroom door before snatching the paper from the desk and began reading.

_ Hey, Eds. Beverly told me this would make me feel better, but I think that’s a load of shit. What the fuck am I supposed to say? “Get your feelings out,” she said, as if that would make a shred of difference.  _

_ Well, here goes. This is my sixth attempt at writing you this letter, and I still don’t know what to fucking say.  _

_ You know me, Eddie. _ _ _

_ You know everything about me. I told you about all the problems I had, and you did the same with me. Whether it was about Bowers, or school, or our parents, or just fucking anything in the world, we always knew we had each other. At least, I hope you knew you had me. You had me, Eds, you always did. Even when we were apart for those sucky 27 years, you still didn’t leave my mind. I don’t think I knew it was you, but I never found anyone else because I always had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind telling me it wasn’t right. The person I was with was never fussy enough, they were never neurotic or obsessive enough, they were never crass enough. They were never “Eddie” enough.  _

_ I didn’t try and catch feelings for you, but it just fucking happened. How could it not? You always had a comeback for everything I said, and you put up with the highs and lows that I put you through, and you always had a bandaid and smart remark waiting for me when I would hurt myself. You’d always tell me to be more careful, and how could I not love you for worrying about me? Even though you called me fuckface and dickwad, you always had a smile for me. I lived to make you laugh, Eds. I loved to hear your laugh, and I loved how it made me feel that I was the one that caused it. I loved to make you happy, and I wanted to do it forever.  _

_ When we got back, and I saw you, and how fucking amazing you looked, it all came flooding back to the forefront of my mind. How much I really missed you. How much I really loved you. I knew I had to get you away from Derry, I couldn’t risk losing you to that clown fucker, and I couldn’t risk losing you by leaving you again.  _

_ A lot of good that did, huh? _

_ I should have stayed behind with you, Eddie.  _

_ What? _ Eddie stopped reading, holding the paper away from his eyes with shaky hands.  _ Stayed behind? _ He heard the shower turn off, and he knew he wouldn’t have much time to finish reading, so he pushed down the questions that were forming at his mouth, and continued.

_ I should have stayed behind with you, Eddie. _

_ I didn’t stay with you 27 years ago, but I should have stayed with you then.  _

_ You saved me from It, from the deadlights, and you were on top of me, and I was so happy to see your face. All the feelings and emotions that I had kept locked away for so long were rushing back, and I wanted so badly to tell you I loved you then and there.  _

_ I should have said something, Eds. I should have said something before it was too late. But you were bleeding so much, and you looked so pale and sweaty. To be honest, I’d never seen you look so dirty, Eddie. Ha ha. I didn’t want to joke around with you, I didn’t want to make you laugh, I didn’t even want to see you smile. I was making deals with whatever god or demon would listen to me, for me to just be able to SAVE you. Even if I never got to say anything to you about how much I loved you, or if I never got to be the one to make you happy or giggle or anything, I would have still fucking done ANYTHING to save your goddamn life.  _

_ You had to go and die on me, you absolute fucker? You had to go and risk your life to save my pitiful existence, and you had to go and fucking die? Before I could even tell you thanks? Before I could even tell you what a fucking absolute irresistable person you were? You were annoying and aggravating and hysterical and naive and fanatical, and a shitton of other things. But you were also supportive and friendly and wonderful and beautiful and caring and just overall fucking perfect.  _

_ I hope you know that you were my home, you were what I thought of when I was lonely or sad. I didn’t think of my house or my parents or any of the rest of the losers. I thought of you, Eds.  _

_ I’m not strong, Eddie. But, I should have saved you. _

Eddie threw down the letter as soon as he had finished, tears freely streaming down his cheeks. 

“No!” He shouted, going over and pounding on the bathroom door. “Richie, I’m right here! Richie!”

Although he heard the sound of him banging against the wood of the door, it was muffled, as if he was in a bubble, and the sound didn’t escape his own ears.  _ No, this isn’t right. This can’t be happening. _

After what seemed like an eternity of Eddie trying to get Richie’s attention on the other side of the bathroom door, but was realistically only about thirty seconds, Richie swung the door open. His hair was damp, and was hanging in curls all around his face. His glasses were in his hand, and he used his other hand to hold the towel that was wrapped around his thin waist. Eddie stopped, his fist still in the air as if he were knocking on an invisible door, and just stared. Richie looked crushed. 

His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and his lips, which were usually always resting in a small smile, were frowning. He breezed past where Eddie was standing, and no matter how much shouting and waving Eddie did, Richie didn’t even flinch. Eddie couldn’t help but look away when Richie got dressed, biting his lip to stop more sobs from wracking through his body. 

When he turned back to look at Richie, he was already almost done packing his suitcase, and was adjusting the jacket he had slipped on his torso. He took one last glance at the letters he had tossed in the trash, and picked up the one that Eddie had thrown on the floor with a flash of confusion on his face, before folding it up and putting it into his back pocket. 

Eddie followed Richie out of his room and downstairs into the lobby, where he met with the other friends. He tried desperately to get any of their attention, but to no avail. 

_ Bill, come on! You write horror novels! There’s a ghost, right in fucking front of you! _

_ Ben, hello? Do I need to recite a fucking poem for you to hear me? _

_ Mike, Mikey. You’ve had 30 fucking years to research anything you could find on Pennywise. Did you see anything about what happened after he killed somebody? ‘Cause I can tell you, THEY DIE AND BECOME GHOSTS AND I’M RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.  _

_ Beverly, please. _ He pleaded with her, trying to grab her hands and failing as she glided past him to give Richie a hug. 

“Please call me if you need anything, Rich,” she whispered into his ear, her voice thick with sadness. “And trust me, the letter can really help.”

“Thanks, Bev,” Richie gave her a small smile and returned her hug, quickly shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as soon as they parted. “I feel a little better already.” 

_ C’mon, Rich, even I know that’s a lie, and I’m fucking dead. _

Not knowing what else to do, Eddie just followed Richie like a puppy dog out to his car, hopping into the passenger side. He kept his eyes trained on Richie as he drove, noticing the clench of his jaw as he ground his teeth. 

“That’s not good for your teeth, Richie, how many fucking times do I have to tell you that?” Eddie said, exasperated.

After a moment, almost as if he heard him, Richie gave a small chuckle and parted his lips, his jaw no longer stiffening. Eddie drew his eyebrows together in thought and looked out the window at the town of Derry moving past him as Richie drove the car. Not too long after they had left the hotel, however, Richie pulled the car to a stop, right on the kissing bridge.

Eddie looked over at Richie, and quickly clambered out of the car when he realized Richie had already gotten out and was walking over to the wooden railing.

“This railing really needs to be replaced, you know,” Eddie hummed, trying once again to get Richie’s attention as he had in the car. “It’s dangerous, and old, and is going to get someone killed one of these days.”

Richie knelt down, not showing any indication that he had heard Eddie, and pulled out a knife from his pocket. He began scraping the knife against the wood, and Eddie glanced down at what he was doing. His mouth dropped as he realized he was retracing an old message on there, and he kept glancing between Richie and the very apparent “R + E” that decorated the bridge. He knelt down beside Richie and stared at his handiwork. 

“Rich,” he breathed, unsure of how he could get his attention again. He placed his hand on Richie’s free arm, which caused them both to shudder at the contact. With a small gasp, Richie turned to his left, his eyes looking directly into Eddie’s. Eddie smiled sadly, knowing Richie couldn’t actually see him looking back. 

“Eddie…?” Richie mumbled, looking around him and seeing nothing. 

While he had his attention, Eddie gently pulled his hand out to touch the wood, dragging his fingers down from his own carving, to where there was another, smaller carving. 

Richie quickly sucked in his breath as his hand moved on its own, his skin still burning as if someone was helping move it. His fingers traced the many old carvings that surrounded his own, and they stopped on another, one that he hadn’t noticed before. Another set of initials were there; faded, but there all the same. “E + R”

Both of the men cried together, Eddie not moving his hand from Richie’s. Everything seemed to get brighter for Eddie, and he realized very quickly that he was running out of time. He had unfinished business, and he had fulfilled it. He gripped onto Richie’s hand tightly, tears falling faster. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave Richie. 

“I love you, Richie. I’m sorry I never said it, but I love you so much,” he spoke softly, putting his hands on either side of Richie’s face. Richie seemed to really look at him now, his eyes still brimming with tears. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” Richie started, but Eddie cut him off with a brisk kiss. He didn’t have much time, and he didn’t know how long Richie would be able to see him. 

“I love you Richie, I love you,” he repeated, peppering his face with kisses. 

“I love you Eddie,” Richie murmured back, closing his eyes. 

The world got brighter and brighter for Eddie, and he was losing sight of Richie. He continued to hold his face, so tight that he thought he would hurt him. But he didn’t care. He wanted Richie for as long as he could have him. 

“I love you, Eds,” Richie said again, opening his eyes. 

Only this time he was once again alone on the bridge, his face still burning from a touch that was no longer there. 


End file.
